onions sparingly, to make them last. But by afternoon the onions had given him a sharp, retching cramp. After the pain had worn off, he slept some, lying on the pile of dead leaves in the thicket by the ditch. When he woke up the last time, it was dark. That night he managed to reach the Camp- bell place, He was afraid to approach the house, but he lay in the barn, dozing fitfully. In the middle of the morning, he managed to attract Mr. Campbell's attention. He stayed in the barn for three days. Mr. Campbell smuggled food out to him, and after dark the first night a blanket and a pillow. " I don't mind having you," Mr. Campbell said that night, squatting in the loft, in the dark, while Mr. Munn lay stretched out on the blanket. " It's not that I mind. It's just that this section right round here ain't too safe. Soldiers on the road out by my place not more'n two days ago." Mr. Munn scarcely heard, sinking again into a sweet daze of weariness. " Uh-huh," he replied. Mr. Campbell's words flowed away from him. He knew that they would have mean- ing for him later. But not now. " Now a little north of here, it's safer. Things been right quiet up there. And there's a feller up there thinks a world of Doctor MacDonald. The doc stayed up there with him off and on, fishing and hunting. I went up once with the doc, just once, not being much of a hand to be hunting and fish- ing, and spent a night and a day up there in this feller's place. Feller name of Proudfit, a quiet-spoken feller. You heard the doc speak about him?" " Yes," Mr. Munn responded, letting Mr. Campbell's words slide and break and re-form meaninglessly in his mind like quicksilver, *' I reckon so." "Well, 111 go see him. I'll go tomorrow and fix it up. This Proudfit feller, he'll do anything for the doc, and after all you've done for the doc/' "I haven't done anything for him," Mr. Munn said. "Well"—and Mr. Campbell hesitated—"I don't know what you'd call anything, then."